The stoned Bondi-beach bum good looks; the bizarre facial contortions; the child-like capacity to seem completely detached from reality…but hey, enough about Peter Andre. How will Craig Nicholls fare on his return to the public eye? If the hushed cubicles of indie-dom have been awash with rumours over the last few months concerning both Craig's mental health and the Vines ability to recreate the media-storm of two years ago with new album 'Winning Days' then 'Ride' is the perfect response.
Lest we forget, this is a band who effortlessly surfed the zeitgeist two years ago whilst a bewildered rock universe looked on, simply because they are quite brilliant at their job: lifting great psych-pop tunes and imagery from the vaults (who else would have had the steel balls to write a song called 'Get Free'?) and reprising them for twenty-first century consumption. With added cheekbones.
'Ride' is an arse-slapping glam stomp which sounds like Strokes dressed in tin foil and which grabs you by the scrotum within the first five seconds and then never lets go. Starting with a stuttering spasm of itchy-trigger machine gun guitars it explodes into a napalm chorus which will have indie-clubs from Penzance to Penicuik suing for structural damage whilst an antsy Craig howls dementedly about life being "the beginning, the middle and the end".
Oh, and b-side 'Give Up, Give Out, Give In' is a narcoleptic acoustic gem which sees Craig sighing "They've gone mad" on an extended loop, in a sly dig at his detractors.
Insania, alright.
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